


To Feel Again by R'rain

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: MMOM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being attacked and rape/ncd, Blair is determined to take back control of his own body, his own feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Feel Again by R'rain

To Feel Again

This is my response to the Merry Month of Masturbation challenge. It's not too merry, really, but this is the story the guys wanted to tell. Who was I to argue? If you're looking for a sweet, smutty PWP turn back now. You have been warned. :-) Special thanks to Brandy for beta- reading for me. Permission to archive. 

Disclaimer: Cascade and it's denizens as seen on the Sentinel are the property of Pet Fly Productions and UPN. Everything else belongs to me, myself and I. 

## To Feel Again

by R'rain  


Blair looked down at his body and scowled. Part of him just wanted to look away and cry, and the other part wanted to hit something hard over and over again. He could only see the faintest traces of the bruises now, little yellowish lines and swirls running across his chest, his hips, his thighs. He could still feel them, though. Deep inside him, where no one could make the hurt go away. 

He could still feel Lewis' hands gripping his body so hard he thought his fingers would go right through the skin. Touching him roughly. Taking something that was never offered to him. 

Naomi always figured something would happen to him if he kept up with his police work, Blair recalled bitterly. Well, this would have happened anyway. A dark alley, a rainy night, and a new shortcut through campus that Blair thought would get him back to his car faster were all things that had nothing to do with his police work. //Get back faster, huh. Boy, was I wrong about that one.// 

It was getting harder, not easier, to get out of bed in the morning. Harder because each day he thought he would wake up and suddenly he would be able to put it all behind him. And each day all the fear and loathing would rush back to him the moment he was conscious. Today was no exception, and he lay in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, wishing for it to all go away. 

It wasn't hard to recognize that Lewis had taken something away from him, something that he feared he would never get back. It didn't help that Lewis had been caught, and especially not that Blair had known the arresting officer. He couldn't get over the shame of it, couldn't ever imagine being able to go to the station with his head held high again. That was gone now, and his body was like a stranger to him, some object that his consciousness had been attached to. 

Jim had been good to him, taking care of anything that Blair needed and being endlessly patient, but he had a life to lead and a job to do, with or without Blair at his side. Blair had felt bad about ignoring Jim when he'd knocked on his door that morning before he left, but he just couldn't deal with another sympathetic look. In the past he'd been knocked out, roughed up, even shot, and Jim just pushed him to keep on going. Suddenly he'd been raped and everyone treated him like he was made of glass. It was sometimes harder to deal with that than to deal with what happened in the first place. 

He knew Jim would come around eventually; that wasn't what he was worried about. What he didn't know was whether *he* would come around again. He'd unconsciously curled himself into a ball and pulled the covers up to his neck, as if trying to hide his body from the world. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to stretch out, and pulled the covers down to his waist. 

//IcantdothisIcantdothisIcantdothis.// Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he placed his palm flat on his chest. He had been thinking about this for days now, thinking about how he could get himself back again. Lewis had used sex to claim him, to alienate his body. Blair wanted to try and do the same to get it back. 

Slowly he let his fingertips drift in a familiar pattern along his collarbones and down his sides, trying not to cringe. If he couldn't do this, he could never let anyone else do it either. And so he forced his hands to continue their path inwards towards his chest again, feeling their way through the soft, crinkly hairs. There had been a time not so very long ago that this had been easy for him. Wanted. Desired. Now it felt like having to take his medication or something equally distasteful. 

His body wasn't responding to the way he touched it, even though it was no different than any other time, not physically. He ran his thumbs across his nipples and then back upwards, caressing his neck and running his hands through his hair. He couldn't get Lewis' sneering face out of his mind. His own hands reminded him of Lewis', even though Lewis had never been gentle like this. 

He felt tears spring to his eyes. He'd never felt so helpless, so hopeless. //Am I going to be alone forever now? Will I ever be able to be with someone else?// He looked down at himself and let a hand tentatively trace the bruises just above his right hip. If he looked just right he could even see the faint shape of a hand there; four yellowed fingers still gripping him tightly. He lay his own hand over it, trying to replace that hand, but he felt too small, too insignificant. 

Laying his hands at his sides and fighting the urge to cover himself up again, he wondered if he would be feeling any different if he wasn't so alone. Would it be easier if Jim was there with him, understanding and not just sympathizing? His mind began to call up his favorite fantasy, visualizing Jim's gentle hands caressing his face, and the tiniest wave of arousal spread through his body. It didn't last, though, as he let the fantasy drift away. Maybe, just maybe, there would be time for that later, when the memories wouldn't taint it. Right now he had to do this by himself, for himself, if he was ever going to. 

//This shouldn't be a chore,// he told himself, //This shouldn't be a chore.// Again his hands roamed the upper part of his body, touching his skin lightly and learning the way it felt again. It was no different; he hadn't forgotten. And yet Lewis' face still lingered on the edge of his mind, always hovering over anything that might give him pleasure. It wasn't just when he was thinking about sex; it was when he was watching a movie, or eating a really good meal. Every damn time he began to feel good about something Lewis was there, hovering at the edge of his consciousness, mocking him. 

"No!" he said aloud, his hands clenching into fists on his stomach. "I won't let you!" He forced himself to relax and cupped his penis in one hand. It didn't respond at all, laying mute and limp against his palm. He looked at the traitor, the one who had reacted when Lewis was touching him. The one who wouldn't, couldn't, now. 

He felt the tears he had been holding back begin to make hot streaks down his cheeks. He hadn't let himself cry, not when Lewis was assaulting him, not when the doctor was examining him, not even when the psychologist was questioning him. He grabbed an extra pillow from the head of the bed and held it in his arms, soaking it with the tears that were flowing freely now and using it to drown the sobs he could no longer control. 

There was still the faint scent of Jim's cologne on the pillow, from where Jim had sat next to him the previous night and felt Blair's forehead for fever. He knew that Jim cared about what happened to him, but he wasn't in any state to accept that kind of caring. Not yet. The scent did give him some small bit of comfort though, as though Jim was holding him in his arms and letting Blair drown his sorrows in his shoulder. 

Even after his sobs subsided, Blair still found himself gasping for breath, and his body shuddered at random moments. Crying felt good though, a lot better than anything else had in a while. And his psyche let him feel good about crying. He inhaled the weakening scent of the pillow one last time before setting it back on the bed beside him. 

He was partly upright now, his back leaning against the headboard of his bed, the blankets fallen down to his knees. The scent of Jim had caused his body to stir the tiniest bit, and he let it this time. Was it wrong, using the things he had before the whole incident ever happened? He had to do this himself, but no one ever said he had to do it alone. 

This time when he brought himself to touch his body his hands roamed further down, to touch the darker bruises on his thighs. It wasn't hard to identify where Lewis' fingers had gripped him there. Or to identify the two bite marks, still purple though they had never broken the skin. He shuddered involuntarily but didn't stop. This was *his* body dammit. *His* body. 

The familiar feelings of arousal were spreading, creeping up on him rather than bombarding him but there all the same. Encouraged, he used one hand to pinch a slowly hardening nipple. The jolt of sensation that shot through his body shocked him, and his hands fell away from his body for a moment. It wasn't long before he brought them back, though, feeling his skin a little less tentatively and creeping towards his groin where he felt himself hardening. 

Lewis wasn't gone, but he was shoved to the back of Blair's mind now. His presence wasn't saturating this sacred event, this moment in time. After long, long moments of just getting used to the renewed sensitivity in his body, Blair let a hand wrap around his cock and stroked it lightly. It felt good, and that was okay. 

His other hand teased his nipples as he stroked harder and faster, letting instinct take over and letting the rhythm of years of experience guide him. He liked to tease himself, to make the moment last, but not this time. This time he needed to be able to climax, and to do it on his own terms and for his own pleasure. Moments later he did, spurting across his still-pumping hand and not crying out but exhaling in a soft "oh". He blinked back the tears that welled up in his eyes again and lay back on his bed as the feeling of satiation made his limbs heavy and his mind fogged. 

Minutes later, wiping himself clean with the edge of a sheet now destined for the wash, Blair got out of bed and pulled a pair of jeans on. He didn't feel much like breakfast, didn't feel much like anything, but he was up, and he was glad to be alive, and that at least was a start.  
  


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